


Gladius Lignea

by DAIOSTIEL



Series: (Alice) in the Wonderland [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, And ragnor is called ragnar, Blood and Violence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Gays in History, Gladiator Alec Lightwood, Gladiator Jace Wayland, Gladiator Simon Lewis, Gladitorial games were introduced in 69BC to Euphesus but ignoring that, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lenista Magnus Bane, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mightve gotten some info wrong, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Homophobia, Non-Graphic Violence, Simon is called Symeon, Slavery, Swordfighting, Time Period: 73BC, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, because its the 73BC ok, because the romans were gay lol, dont hate crime me, homophobia is a modern trend, no one cared back then, yuhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAIOSTIEL/pseuds/DAIOSTIEL
Summary: 73 BC, Ephesus - Rome, where the House of Bane resides and where love blooms between a Lenista and his Gladiator.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Simon Lewis/Jace Wayland
Series: (Alice) in the Wonderland [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065146
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To avoid confusion with the terms used in this work of fiction - I would recommend watching [ this video ](https://youtu.be/c4RuWmmt8To). You can read more about Gladiators [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gladiator) and [here](https://www.britannica.com/sports/gladiator), some stuff about the types of Gladiators is [ here ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Roman_gladiator_types)
> 
> Cover art by Lady_Koalart [ on instagram. ](https://www.instagram.com/lady_koalart/)
> 
> And I'm arsistiel on [ tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/arsistiel)/[twitter](https://twitter.com/arsistiel)/[instagram.](https://www.instagram.com/arsistiel/)

“You lower your guard after every attack,” Jonathan says, taking a seat beside Alexander. “A mistake like that in the arena can make you for the afterlife.”

Alexander sighs with a nod and takes a bite of his porridge, feels sweat drip down his face. The sun beams over his head. They have been training since dawn without pause. He feels as if his body will go limp before he even gathers the strength to pick up his wooden sword again. But by the gods’ mercy, it is the ninth hour of the day and they can finally fill up their stomach. 

“I swear on Jupiter’s cock, Diotimus will have his fingers separated from his hand by my blade,” Symeon nearly slams his bowl of porridge down as he places himself next to Jonathan, his dark hair flurried and his face red with exasperation. “Fucking Syrian.”

Jonathan shakes his head, his blonde hair falling on his face, and wraps an arm around his boy’s waist. “I would do that first, for you.”

Symeon huffs, though a blush tints his cheek and he gives Jonathan a smile and then greets him with a small peck. It makes Alexander roll his eyes, they are not shy with public display of their love - not that he minds it. They have quickly become the best of his friends in the short time he has spent in this ludus.

“Let us leave that to the beast he would combat against, tomorrow,” Alexander says. 

There are games organised in the arena-- a celebration for the Magistrate's son’s coming of age. There are a few taking part in them. But Alexander is not one of them. 

Alexander is still in training to become a gladiator - a _Tiros._ He is yet to take his test, which will decide whether he stays in the House of Bane or not. 

“When the night draws tomorrow, my hand shall be heavy with coin and you both drenched in wine,” Jonathan announces, pulling Symeon close to himself and smirking at Alexander, confident that he and this ludus will be the victors, as they usually are. 

“We shall see about that,” Alexander replies, rolling his taint shoulders back.

Jonathan tilts his head. “Do you not have faith in my abilities, brother?” he asks. _“The champion of Ephesus?”_

Alexander gives him a roll of eyes. “Tomorrow’s games are a small event and only a selective amount of the crowd is to watch the showing,” he says. “Even if you soak the soil in blood, I highly doubt the _Magistrate_ will bestow you with more than 50 dinari.” 

They all know how _giving_ the Magistrate's heart is (which is none at all.)

“You talk absent knowledge.” 

“He rather makes sense,” Symeon mutters.

Jonathan huffs, waving along his hand in disdain. “Spare me my colossal fantasies.”

Training resumes from the eleventh hour of the day. Doctore commands Jonathan to, yet again, pair up with Alexander before he is summoned by their Dominus. 

Jonathan is a dimachaerus - he fights with two swords, whereas Alexander is trained to fight with a sword and a shield. Jonathan sways heavy strikes on Alexander, smirking when he trashes him on the ground and comes to stand behind him, pressing the tip of his wooden sword to the base of Alexander’s throat as if enacting an assasination.

“You lower your guard while attacking again,” he says. “I do not think of you as ready to take the test yet.”

He expects Alexander to raise two of his fingers as a sign of surrender. 

“Do not be sure so soon,” Alexander says instead, and then hits Jonathan’s ribs with the back of his sword, making the _champion_ fall back.

Alexander swiftly turns and rises back up on his feet, spitting out a bit of blood that laps on his tongue. His shield is raised up to cover his torso and his sword ready to strike.

Jonathan chuckles, taking position in front of the other man. “Very well then.”

Alexander attacks him, and Jonathan defends every strike. The Tiros moves with rage, hard slashes pouring on Jonathan, not giving him a chance to lead the attack.

They fight in a corner of the training grounds. Symeon practices his dagger on a wooden man, ignoring Diotimus who is yet again trying to enrage him. Gladiators are scattered all over the soil.

And Magnus has sight of all of them, up in the balcony, but his eyes helplessly anchor over one, who is pouring his blood and sweat in his training. 

Magnus almost catches the heat of the fire burning underneath the Tiro’s skin - _Alexander._

_Just as beautiful as his name._

“I do see him ready for the test,” Magnus says, watching how Alexander twists out of Jonathan’s arms and presses his sword against the champion’s throat.

“So do I,” Doctore, who stands right beside the Lenista, replies. 

“You did good with him,” Magnus turns to look at him. He has never doubted Ragnar, the man has been training gladiators in the House of Bane since Magnus came of age.

“I believe I did,” Ragnar says, pressing a hand to his chest and slightly bowing down

Magnus chuckles. “The games of Capua are to be held in Junius.” he says, and now notices that Alexander has the _Champion of Ephesus_ pinned to the ground. “I would have him join the brotherhood sooner… Mauis?”

Ragnar just gives him a nod. “He would be ready for a showing in the arena itself, by then.” the Doctore comments, watching the man making Jonathan struggle. “He learns fast”

Magnus smiles. “Mauis it is then“

 _“Dominus.”_ Ragnar leaves with the greeting. 

Magnus sighs. He has told Ragnar to not call him that before. Magnus might be the Lenista of the Ludus now but Ragnar has still been his teacher, and Magnus does not really favor his teacher call him _‘master’_

Just about then, Alexander gets off Jonathan and lets a hand out. Jonathan takes it with a proud grin and gets up on his feet. 

“I taught you well.”

Alexander lets out a mocking noise and then walks over to where his shield has fallen. Picking it up, his gaze catches with the man standing in the balcony.

Magnus gives him a smile and waves his fingers towards the Tiros, who looks back at him with parted lips and then lets his head drop. Magnus does not miss the small smile that has bloomed on the man’s face

It is the third hour of the night when Clarissa calls for him. He is just wrapping a loincloth over his subligaculum as he gets out from the baths.

“Alexander, you are summoned.”

Symeon smirks beside him while Jonathan gives them a knowing look, leaving Alexander alone to follow Clarissa to their Dominus’ chambers.

Clarissa has attended Magnus since before Alexander came in the ludus. She’s a nice woman. Alexander assumes her to be Thracian by her red hair, he does not really know because the only interaction they have is when she leads him to Magnus.

“Is he--” Alexander stops, trying to find the right words. 

The Lenista has not summoned him in a few days. It is quite often for him to do so every once or twice in a week. He’d call Alexander and ask him about how his training is going, insisting on him to stay. Surprisingly, it does not bother Alexander. Jonathan keeps saying that Magnus does so because he favors Alexander. Alexander disagrees-- he is their dominus, after all, _why would he favor his tiros?_

The lenista is in all likelihood just making sure that Alexander is training well.

And yet, Alexander looks forward to their meetings. Albeit, Magnus has been circumvented for a while.

“He has not broken words with me in days.”

Clarissa fixes her shagged dress so her bosoms are covered adequately. “The Senate has kept him occupied,” she replies, turning her head to give Alexander a smile. “Need not to brood, I highly doubt that he is capable of being resentful when it comes to you.”

“I do not brood.”

“Symeon would disagree,” Clarissa smirks, and Alexander rolls his eyes. She and Symeon are quite good friends, and his big mouth tends to blab a lot. 

“Go now, break words with him. I do not believe myself as capable of hearing dominus speak about you for another minute”

Alexander lets out a breathy chuckle. Clarissa often reminds him of his sister. He ruffles her hair and she scrunches her nose, before they walk into Magnus’ chamber.

Magnus is sitting on his bed, he is removing his jewellery and placing it into another slave's hand who puts them into a box. The Lenista wears a knee length tunic, sleeves cut to reveal his taunt biceps. Alexander lets not his eyes rest on the sight for too long.

“Dominus,” Clarissa says, catching Magnus’ attention.

Magnus turns to her, dismissing the slave who was helping him with his jewellery. A smile blossoming on his face as soon as he sees Clarissa’s company.

“Alexander,” it is but a breath, as Magnus lets his eyes linger all over the Tiros-- still beautiful as ever, body craved as if the gods did so himself. Alexander’s dark hair is wet and falling over his eyes, Magnus wants to reach out and brush them away.

“Dominus,” Alexander bows slightly in respect, it makes Magnus shake his head.

“Clarissa, did you write to your family?” Magnus asks the girl.

Clarissa looks at him a little saddened, but she tries to school the expression. “I have not gotten the opportunity”

Magnus tuts. “Go then, I believe your work is concluded for today. And give Lucian my greetings, I have yet to share a glass of wine with him.”

“Dominus,” Clary says again with a smile.

“If you know her family well, why do you keep her as slave?” Alexander can’t help just ask, it comes out quite abrupt. He sees the expression on Magnus’ face and bows his head. “Apologies, I overstep.”

“No, No it is quite alright” 

Alexander has a tendency to speak his mind no matter how harsh it might be, and Magnus likes that-- the man has never been a shoe licker like most, it is probably one of the qualities that had caught Magnus’ eye. 

“Clarissa’s half-brother used to be gladiator of this ludus, in the passing,” Magnus explains. “He was sent to the afterlife in the games of summer solstice, he died as an honorable man.” 

Suddenly, Alexander’s expressions change into intrigue and - what Magnus recognises - empathy, almost as if he understands, feels it. “Naturally, Clarissa’s family was in debt. I offered assistance, but she and her father would have none of the free coin. So I offered for her to work here instead.”

“Oh”

Magnus hums. “Regardless, are you training well, Alexander?”

Alexander looks up at him now, his hands placed behind him in a stance quite similar to that of a soldier. “Training has been going well, Dominus.”

“You have no need to call me that when we are alone, I recall telling you.”

“I--” Alexander blinks. “Training has been going well, _Magnus”_

“Much better,” Magnus says. “So, I wanted to let you know that I broke words with Doctore at noon, but first--” with a flourish, he stands up from his bed and picks up two glasses which are already set to his bedside, walks over to Alexander and stretches out his hand, “--wine?”

Magnus’ eyes gaze into his, expectant. “It is _Falernum”_

Alexander licks his lips. “Gratitude” 

He gently takes the glass in his hands, his fingers brushing against Magnus’, making his cheeks tint. 

Magnus waves a hand along, and goes back to sit down on his bed. He has a certain grace that makes Alexander wonder how he is kosher, sometimes.

“Come sit.” Magnus nods towards the space beside him.

Alexander's eyes drift between him and the empty space. Sure, he and Magnus have conversations quite frequently, but it is mostly outside on the training grounds. The settings at this moment, however, seem a little too intimate to Alexander.

Not that he objects to it.

He places himself down on the _soft_ mattresses which he did not believe he would be able to experience ever again. He sips his wine and gazes around the room, before he meets Magnus’ eyes once more - they are golden, a few flecks of green in them, and they shine. Alexander has always known for them to be beautiful, but seeing them up close is really something else.

“You were saying,” Alexander clears his throat, not wanting to choke on his own words, “That you broke words with Doctore?”

“Ah, yes,” Magnus replies. “I did. I see you ready to join the brotherhood,” he takes a sip of his wine, “and Ragnar agrees. We shall have your test in Mauis.”

Alexander gaps, as if trying to find words. “Magnus--” he breathes, unable to gather anything to say. He has been training for this since months. “Gratitude.”

“I would want to see you in the arena as soon as feasible, Alexander.” Magnus places a gentle hand on Alexander’s bicep. “I want to hear the crowd roar your name.”

For a moment, Alexander’s mind blanks out at the feel of Magnus’ touch upon him. “I would give it my everything.”

“Anything less would not be expected” 

Magnus raises his glass and clinks it against Alexander’s. He sips, his eyes linger on the slight tint of red that rises upon Alexander’s cheeks. The light of the candles reflecting from his eyes. He is bewitching.

The thing about Alexander is that a part of him remains a mystery to Magnus - down on the training grounds he is fierce and threatening. Whereas up here, he’s unable to speak, reserved as if too virginal for this world. He is handsome, yet refuses to partake with women, _or man._ And above all - he has given up his freedom to become a gladiator, despite the fact that he is not the kind to demand or seek fame, money.

“Tell me, Alexander,” Magnus catches Alexander looking down at his wine, almost lost in thought (and also failing to hide his blush), “What brought you to this ludus?”

“It is the best in Euphesus. I would be a fool to go anywhere else.”

Magnus hums. “I agree, but that was not the meaning of my words.”

Alexander blinks at him, then looks down again as if he is contemplating something.

“You do not have to—”

“I suppose,” Alexander starts, “I had not always wanted to become a Gladiator, I do not… favor the games” The last phrase is said with a certain carefulness. 

As a child, Alexander could not really fathom why people would shed blood, watch others shed blood for entertainment and amusement. A part of him still does not.

Alexander raises his head a little to meet Magnus’ magnificent golden-green eyes and finds nothing but the want to know more in them. 

“But my father, he was… he went amongst the dead in the passing year,” he continues, his voice dipping low, “And my family was in debt.” 

Being a gladiator pays handsomely, if Alexander does well in the arena he might even save up enough to pay his debts and buy his freedom back. He hopes.

Magnus tilts his head, studying Alexander’s schooled expressions. They do not show any kind of remorse-- just a desperation present there.

“What is your family?”

“My sister, and my mother.” Alexander’s eyes glint at the thought of them

 _A man who cares about his family, A man with a big heart and honor,_ Magnus can not help but think.

“Is that who you have been asking Elyaas to deliver letters too?”

A faint panic shadows Alexander’s eyes. Elyaas is a guard, a few denariis and he would deliver whatever you want to, whenever you want. 

Magnus breaks into a knowing smile. “Alexander, you are permissed to send out letters whenever you want.” he tells him, and sees the panic clear out from Alexander’s eyes and his body relax. He catches the way Alexander’s eyes gaze all over his face, as if searching for something

“I put my belief in you,” Alexander breathes out, it is soft, a gentle phrase hanging in the air. “I do not know why but… I do”

Magnus' smile is almost blinding, his eyes light up. “As I, you.”

He aches to be closer to Alexander, to brush away those strands of hair falling on his forehead, to soothe the tense lines on his face.

“Stay,” Magnus says, “for a little longer. Would you want more wine?” 

When Alexander agrees, he does not fathom falling asleep right beside _Magnus._

Alexander wakes to Magnus right beside him shaking his shoulder, jerking him to the land of the conscious. 

“Alexander?”

At first, Alexander does not realize that he has his head in the Lenista's lap. It takes him a few blinks before he is sitting straight up in immediate shock and utter embarrassment.

“Gods above,” he says. “Apologies.”

He is cut off by a chuckle which comes out of Magnus’ throat. The last Alexander recalls, Magnus and he were breaking words absent sense - minds intoxicated as if floating on air.

_“To not desire you is so hard for me, Magnus”_

Alexander whines when the memory of him voicing that thought of him before he drifted off to sleep hits his head. _Did Magnus recall?_

Magnus is shaking his head, staring at Alexander with soft honey-brown eyes. He looks disheveled from a few hours of sleep and yet, _so beautiful._

“You tranquilize me,” Magnus mutters, hand reaching to brush the dark locks on Alexander’s forehead away.

Alexander finds himself leaning into the touch. He shuts his eyes, tries to align his thoughts, and is only able to whisper, “I did not mean to…”

“Sh,” Magnus quiets him, placing his forefinger upon Alexander’s lips. “See yourself to the training grounds. The moon is giving way to sun.”

Just as the words leave his lips, a ray of the sun hits his face and makes his caramel skin glow, eyes sparkling, lips soft and turned up, expressions schooled. Apollo himself could come stand right beside Magnus and Alexander is sure that his gaze would still not waver from the Lenista.

“If the House of Bane draws blood today, in the arena,” Magnus leans in, closer to Alexander, and whispers in his ear. “We shall break words in the evening”

When Alexander gathers his strength and walks out of the chambers, he chooses to not acknowledge Clarissa’s knowing look and the implication that sits heavy behind her words.

 _“Yearning finally parts to give desire way. Very well, Alexander.”_

Nothing occurred between Magnus and him, and yet, Alexander misses his embrace.

“Dominus kept you in his bed, last night, huh?” Jonathan smirks as he puts on his armor, Symeon helping him with it. Johnathan’s showing is the next and the last for today’s games - and till yet, no one from the house of Bane has been sent to the afterlife. (Diotmus has lost his little finger, though)

“We exchanged words.” Alexander replies.

Symeon raises a brow. “Till the sun lit sky?”

Alexander chooses to not address him. “Hold onto your swords and focus on fucking victory”

“Victory is ours, brother.” Jonathan announces, earning hoots from the rest of the gladiators present in the room.

When the guards come to escort Jonathan out into the arena, Symeon pulls him close by his armor. 

“The blood drawn and spilled on the sands shall _not_ be yours,” It is threatening, something they often do before one of them has a showing.

“Even the gods will not be able to keep me from your embrace,” Jonathan smiles, and leans in to catch Symeon’s lips with his. The moment is intimate, Alexander looks away.

The showing starts and Jonathan fights to live, to victor. His opponent masters the spear but not enough to stop the _Champion of Ephesus._ Jonathan’s movements are precise and calculated, his swords thirsting. 

Everytime he draws blood, the gladiators in the back room roar. Symeon alone yells in excitement, occasionally jumping on Alexander who chuckles and watches Jonathan, studying his tactics.

A scream from the opponent, Jonathan’s sword piercing through the chest of the other gladiator, and the limited crowd starts to chant

_“Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill”_

“The gods watch him from fucking heavens today,” Symeon throws a fist up in the air, pride lacing his tone. He looks at Alexander beside him, “He is my fucking love!”

“I know well, Symeon.” Alexander replies with a laugh, the rest of the gladiators celebrate a victory that is yet to come.

Occasionally, Alexander’s eyes drift to Magnus, who rests up on the podium beside the Magistrate and his son. 

Magnus nurtures a smile as he watches the showings, pride in his eyes and knowing on his face. Alexander finds it hard, sometimes, to take his eyes off him. And then, sometimes, Magnus catches Alexander’s gaze, too. 

Their eyes interlock, and Alexander’s breath hitches. The Lenista’s smile even brightens, raising his hand to give Alexander a small wiggle of his fingers. 

Another roar. Symeon slapping the wall with pride and excitement, and Alexander sees the opponent on his knees in front of Jonathan while Jonathan holds his head by his hair, his sword pressed to the other gladiator’s throat, ready to slice. The other gladiator is limping down, his chest bleeds red and his hand raises two fingers, the sign of surrender. Jonathan is looking up at the Magistrate, asking for instructions while the crowd screams from blood.

The Magistrate gives a nod to his son who stands up. The life of the gladiator rests in the boy’s thumb.

“A fine showing.”

And then, the Magistrate’s son gives a thumbs _down._

Alexander almost winces as the crowd cheers, he notices Magnus trying to talk the Magistrate out of it. But the Magistrate disagrees, and his son’s thumb remains downward. Jonathan’s eyes flicker over to Magnus, Clarissa standing beside him closes her eyes. Just as Magnus gives Jonathan a slight nod, Jonathan's sword derives into the neck of the one who took defeat.

Crowd and the House of Bane laughs at the showcase of death. The magistrate’s son grins as the Gladiator thuds to ground. Jonathan raises his arms up to take in the victory. Symeon claps and pounces on Alexander, enlopping him in a hug as if he has never seen Jonathan victor before. Doctore smirks and sees himself to the podium.

When the magistrate rises from his seat to address the crowd and to grant Jonathan of the Denariis he wins for this showing. Alexander stares at the gladiator who is embraced by death and is being dragged away from the ground. He thinks of how his life was equivalent to that of a playtoy for the young boy sitting up there on the podium.

Alexander is certainly rejoiceful for having such a victory, and he tries hard to not think about the blood soaked sands. Which might one day, drench in his own blood.

The Magistrate ends the games by bestowing Jonathan with a hundred denarii, given how his son is beaming. And so Jonathan decides to spend a huge share of it all in whores and wine for celebration, that evening.

“I told you I will drown you in wine,” Jonathan shouts from a table top, where he stands with Symeon in his arms. 

There are naked women all around, gladiators fucking them in every corner. The stench of wine thick in the air. Alexander stays in his own secluded table, drinking from his cup and not really showing much interest, he has never been much of a people person.

“You look lonely”

When Alexander looks up, he is immediately met with the sight of another, yet again, extremely naked woman giggling at him as she pours wine over her body.

Alexander tries not to grimace. “And I would, ugh, like to stay that way” 

“Are you sure, Gladiator?” The blonde reaches out and starts to trace Alexander’s shoulders with her finger. “You would much rather enjoy my company.”

Alexander does not flinch, as to not hurt the woman’s feelings. He just squirms in his seat. “I would not. Please, remove hand.”

The blonde rather takes it on as a challenge, trying to press closer to Alexander. “I think of you as mistaken--”  
“He does not favor cunt,” Jonathan yells at the woman, laughing, as do the other Gladiators.

“He would rather Dominus’ cock,” Diotmus raises his cup for a toast.

The blonde immediately flinches away. _“You_ are Alexander,” and then she has the decency to cover her bosoms with her hands. “Apologies, I did not think of you as taken”

“I--” 

Just as the blonde sees herself out of sight, a red head stands in front of Alexander.

“I believe you are forgetting something.”

Clarissa as her hands on her hips, face stern, almost scolding Alexander with her closed lips. 

Alexander frowns. “Does Mag-- Dominus summon me?” 

“No. I am dismissed for the day,” she has the most threatening expression on her face, one Alexander is failing to understand. “And you are forgetting something.”

“I am not sure I recall what,” Alexander tries to search his mind, but finds nothing.

Clarissa releases a loud huff, she seems incredibly tired. “Alexander, I adore you as a brother. But I sometimes want to dislodge your fucking nose”

“Spit your meaning”

“Dominus told you to break words with him if House of Bane was victor today,” she says. “He would not stop wording his thoughts about you.”

Alexander blinks at her.

“By Juno’s cock,” Clarissa groans. “Dominus awaits you, Alexander” 

“Oh,” Alexander bites his bottom lip. _“Oh”_

“Stables have sweeter smell,” Clarissa scrunches her nose as she looks around the room. “See yourself to his chambers--”

Alexander downs his cup in one go, fixing his subligaculum before standing up. “I would. Gratitude for the reminder.”

“--And speak your heart. It is something Dominus appreciates, about you,” and then Clarissa leaves.

When Alexander reaches Magnus’ chambers, the slaves direct him to Magnus’ bath. Alexander thinks it better to await him, but a slave is already going in.

“Apologies, Dominus. Alexander is here”

Alexander does not hear what Magnus says, he is just led inside the baths, where another slave - Camillus is her name, is slipping off Magnus’ silk robe while the other two prepare the waters.

Alexander averts his eyes down on the marble floor. 

“Dominus.”

At the sound, Magnus swirls to face Alexander, his robe now in Camillus’ hands who puts it away, leaving Magnus, standing in front of Alexander, naked.

“Alexander,” Magnus smiles, “you came.”

“You asked me to,” Alexander replies, still not meeting Magnus’ eyes, afraid that his body might not react well to Magnus’ uncovered skin.

Magnus chuckles, taking a glance at Alexander head to toe, before turning around and stepping into the waters, as gracious as always. He sits down in a corner and the slaves come upon his arms with scrubs and oils in their hands, Camillus picks up a strigil and starts to follow him into the water too. But Magnus raises a hand up, halting the slaves.

“See yourselves out, you are dismissed for the night.” he tells them, and the slaves hesitate, before they align the scrubs, towels and clothes and stand up to leave. 

Everyone but Camillus.

“Did you not hear me?” 

Camillus’ eyes flicker between Magnus and Alexander, she tries to perk up her chest, her dress down from waist above. 

“Apologies. I did not think the command was for me, too.”

“Oh but it was,” Magnus tells her. “Leave us.”

Alexander does not enjoy the look Camillus shoots at him when she leaves the chambers. She definitely does not favor Alexander.

“You said you wanted to exchange words with me, if the ludus wins, today.” Alexander says at last, finally being able to look at Magnus, now that his lower half is submerged in the water.

“I did,” Magnus tilts his head, observing Alexander and the way he squirms in his standing. “Come join me, Alexander”

Alexander looks as if taken by surprise

“Only if you wish to, that is.” 

Alexander looks down as if he is contemplating something. Then, he is slowly reaching to untuck his subligaculum and is removing it, leaving himself as bare as Magnus. 

Magnus looks away, to give Alexander a moment to himself, though he can not help his eyes linger for a few seconds over his hips.

Alexander walks into the water with measured steps. He is not able to meet Magnus’ eyes. A blush high upon his cheeks as he settles down opposite to Magnus. The water is quite warm, it does not feel as harsh as it does in the cellar baths.

“How is the celebration coming along?” 

“They are all drowned in wine,” Alexander replies, partially closing his eyes as he feels the warmth upon his skin. Though he opens them when he feels his leg brush against Magnus’, or is it the other way around?

Magnus smirks at the brush of body, and shifts closer to make clear the fact that the contact was not an accident. “Not you?”

Alexander draws in a breath when Magnus’ heel runs along his shin. “I had but a drink”

“And the whores? They must have been all over a man such as yourself,” Magnus’ eyes rakes over his body, gaze halting at his abs for a moment.

The Tiros licks his lips, shivering under Magnus’ lone watch. “They do not catch my eye,” he says, as he stares at his Dominus. So when Magnus looks up, their eyes interlock

A small intrigue takes over Magnus’ face, his face in a smile. “Tell me, Alexander, what catches your eye then?”

Alexander bites the inside of his cheek, Magnus looks as bright as the Northern Star under the faint candle lights. Alexander wonders how his beauty has not yet been preserved. 

“Nothing the women could provide”

Magnus hums, his face glinting, as the room falls silent again. Until Alexander rolls his shoulder’s back and almost groans.

“You seem so tense, Alexander,” Magnus says, observing Alexander. “All that training must have created knots”

Alexander massages the back on his neck himself. “I believe so”

“Let me help you then,” Magnus replies, shifting in the waters and coming in closer to Alexander, halting before his lap. “May I?” he flickers his eyes between Alexander’s lap and his face.

Alexander tries not to choke. “You are the Dominus.”

 _“May I?”_ Magnus still looks at him with the same expression.

 _Is it common to have a thing for concurrence?_

Alexander really wants to explore that question.

“Yes” 

Magnus braces his palms on Alexander’s shoulder and straddles him. Alexander almost forgets how to breathe at that contact. Bare skin on bare skin. 

Magnus’ hands work in slow, languid patterns that makes Alexander throw his head back and almost moan. It feels euphoric, Magnus’ palms pressing all those knots away. Alexander is ought to believe that he has lost mind, swimming in the pleasure

“I see you enjoy this,” Magnus moves his fingers along the line of Alexander’s shoulders, thumbs pressing on the knots, reliving them.

“I quite,” Alexander swallows, looking up at Magnus, “I quite do”

A chuckle, as Magnus leans in closer, and Alexander can almost feel their pelvis press against each other. Magnus’ face hovers above his, Alexander can see his plump soft lips, can count his eyelashes. 

“Magnus,” Alexander whispers a breath of air. “Apologies, if I overstep,” his hands lightly settle on the Lenista’s own hips, the touch making his heart beat run even faster, “But, but if you see me as a fast fuck, I do not believe I--”

“Alexander,” Magnus cuts him off. “You mistake intent” He brings one of his hands up to cup Alexander’s neck, “I desire you, I would be a fool not to. And it is not a secret that I do favor you,” 

He leans in closer, his lips against Alexander’s ear, just like in the morning. And Alexander almost forgets how to breathe, _Almost._ “But I also _adore_ you.”

They kiss, because Alexander finds it physically impossible to not do it, anymore. His fingers pressing into Magnus’ hips. The kiss is soft, and yet wanting, Magnus’ hands coming up to tangle into Alexander’s hair, pushing themselves impossibly closer. Their pelvises now slide against each other, skin gliding, the waters making the movements smooth as they kiss and melt into this moment they have awaited for months.

The night stills into pants and moans as they stumble out of the baths and onto Magnus’ bed, wet and hazy in desire. Their kisses break as a result of the smiles they can not derive away from their lips.

Wind blows cold as they keep each other warm with their bodies. The walls bounce back the noises they make, reflecting every sound for the whole ludus to hear - albeit the walls miss the small whispers - whispers of _“I adore you, too”_ or whispers that say _“You are so beautiful”_

They stay in each other’s embrace until the sun shines horizon, before time forces Alexander to get away from Magnus’ arms.

“Train well, my beautiful boy. I want to see you on the soils of the arena, making my head stand tall”

“As you will,” Alexander replies, as he puts on his loincloth in a hurry. 

“As I will,” Magnus repeats with a hint of pride in his tone, before Alexander leaves with a gentle kiss on Magnus’ forehead.

They share lingering glances during the training. Magnus watches him from his balcony. It is quite comforting, in a way, to know that Magnus is with Alexander in one way or the other. 

Alexander is not paired with Jonathan today because the _champion of Ephesus_ is too sick to spar with anyone but a wooden man - he had quite a lot to drink last night. Therefore, Symeon had come in to volunteer in his place instead

“I have a postulate”

“And I have neither desire nor strength to listen to you,” Alexander replies, striking and attacking Symeon, who deflects it with his shield.

“My postulate-- ah,” Symeon cuts himself off to dodge Alexander’s attempt at attack. “My postulate voices that you again were in Dominus’ bed, last night”

“Your postulate stands--” Alexander blocks Symeon’s practice spear with his own wooden sword, “--incorrect”

“And yet your stolen gazes with him say otherwise.”

Alexander rolls his eyes, and his gaze falls upon Magnus again.

“Right there. I caught you!” 

“You speak absent thought”

“I but say what I observe”

Symeon falls on the ground as Alexander knocks off his spear and places his sword on the Gladiator’s throat. “Your _observations_ just made you for the afterlife”

“So, is he your boy now?” Ragnar asks as he stands beside Magnus, watching the gladiators train down from the balcony.

“We have not broken words upon the subject,” Magnus tells him, gaze transfixed on the way Alexander moves.

“Your father would have been troubled, had he known,” says Ragnar. “The boy yet stands a slave.” 

The line just stands a reminder, a warning for Magnus, and nothing more. 

Magnus huffs out a laugh, turning his head away from the gladiators and looking at Ragnar. _“I_ am child of slave, and yet, here I stand.” 

Everybody knows about Magnus - the child of Asmodeus and his _body slave -_ who was then declared heir of the Bane blood two years ago. Inherently, because Asmodeus had known that he wasn’t of this world for too long, and he could not let Batiatus take the ludus he built from dirt and rocks. 

The senate has never really been in favor of Magnus, they consider him of less value because his mother bore the mark of slavery - but Magnus proves himself time upon time, by nurturing gladiators like Jonathan, and now, _Alexander._

“And as for my father,” Magnus waves a hand over, for Clarissa to bring him water. “He shall rise from the afterlife to share troubled mind”

A few minutes later, When Ragnar leaves Magnus’ side, he has a grin on his face, a grin full of pride and respect for the boy he watched grow up.

“Does the house of Bane provide wine?” A voice yells from behind Magnus.

It is a woman, dressed in a dark red toga with golden embroideries and some gold jewelry. One of Magnus’ slaves trail her, as to stop her but she just walks, uncaring.

“Girl with the red locks, fetch me some Posca, will you?” the woman halts in front of Clarissa and commands, as if she is the Domina of the House.

Magnus looks her up and down. “Caia?”

“Oh good, you stand here too” 

“You come to _my_ ludus, who else did you expect to greet?”

“I arrive here on horseback after a long travel under the sun,” Caia replies, before staring back at Clarissa, “do I not even get wine?”

Clarissa shares a confused look with Magnus, and Magnus shares it, before nodding. “Fall to command”

“Yes, Dominus.”

“Fucking sun pours more here than Sinuessa,” Caia remarks, wiping off the sweat on her forehead with her hand, something noble woman would not do even in the afterlife. 

But then again, Caia is not like most noble women Magnus has ever broken words with. No, Caia is a warrior at heart. She does not care about slaves or wealth or even the senate. She travels around with her horse for wine, whores and pleasure at the _excuse_ of the senate.

Magnus holds her close to heart.

“You arrive without notice.”

“Ah,” Caia says, “Apologies, _lenista_ Magnus Bane.”

Magnus rolls his eyes at the mock in her voice, and takes a cup of wine from Clarissa’s hand. “Did you come here carrying words or did you just yearn for the wine again?”

“Both,” Caia replies, “But I came to let you know that the games are to be held in Mauis”

“Mauis?” Magnus frowns. “Why so?”

“The slaves of Capua have rebelled,” Caia sips her wine, “Rebellion led by the bringer of rain himself, Spartacus. The slaves have slaughtered the House of Batiatus, Every Roman is for the afterlife”

“The rebellion is not unheard of,” Magnus says, the rebellion is certainly chilling. But deep down, Magnus understands the cause.

 _Freedom_ comes at an expensive price, after all.

“The senate wills to divert the citizens’ attention with the games,” says Caia. “The romans are blood thirsty beings”

Magnus nods, looking down at his gladiators. It does not affect him much, the gladiators can victor the games right at this moment if given the opportunity. 

“Is he the Tiros?”

Magnus realizes who Caia is pointing towards. “Yes, he is.” he says, “Alexander, he is called”

“Blessed by Jupiter’s cock, are you? He and Jonathan shall bring you heavy coin with a fight like that, in the forthcoming games,” Caia remarks, impressed. 

Magnus’ eyes fall upon Alexander. He is set to take his test in Mauis, and Magnus needs him to stand in the arena.

“I have no doubt that he will.”

And Alexander _will_ stand in the arena.

Caia hums. “It has been long since I held sword,” she says. “I would try a hand”

Magnus chuckles. “Willing to deprive my gladiators from all their strength, are you?”

“They seem too fucking weak”

Jonathan is the first one to notice her when they reach down on the training grounds. Caia does nothing to see herself to proper dress, but Magnus has no doubt that she will take upon all the men without a cut on her toga.

“It warms heart to see you, Caia.” Jonathan says, leaning against a wall.

“Do not lie, champion,” Caia huffs. “Shit runs down your leg at fucking thought of me and my sword”

“I hear a challenge,” Jonathan raises a brow, Symeon laughing beside him, as if knowing the result of this - humiliation, for Jonathan.

Caia picks up a sword and twirls it in her hand, walking upon the soils barefoot and taking stance in front of the Gladiator, the others making a circle around them. 

“I believe so”

The fight between the two is so fascinating that no one discovers Magnus pulling Alexander into the halls (Except Clarissa, of course, but she has her lips sealed).

“They may soon notice our absence,” Alexander says, as Magnus holds his hands and drags him through till the wine keeps.

“Hush,” Magnus replies, once they reach the secluded room. “I have been from your embrace for too long.”

Alexander chuckles as Magnus tucks himself in his chest, wrapping his arms around the lenista. “Will you interrupt all my trainings?”

“One, you were not training,” Magnus raises his head to look into Alexander’s eyes. “And two, I do not hear you complaining”

There is a shout heard from outside just as they kiss, seems like Caia showed Jonathan his place.

“Alexander, I had to break words,” Magnus says. “A rebellion has taken its course in Capua. And the Senate wants to avert the crowd's attention. They have set the games to be held in Mauis”

Alexander frowns, his test is also set to be taken in Mauis. _That would mean--_

No, That can not happen. Alexander needs the coin soon. If he can not- not take part in these games, or else he might have to wait until next year.

“And I want you to stand in the arena,” It’s almost as if Magnus reads the distress writing its way on Alexander’s face.

“As do I, Magnus”

Magnus cups Alexander’s cheek, stares into his eyes, and Alexander leans into the touch. 

“I will share mind with Doctore,” Magnus says. “You will be one with the brotherhood by the time the games approach.”

Alexander smiles, placing his palm over Magnus’ hand. “Gratitude”

“No need for that,” Magnus tells him. “You prove yourself worthy of it, time upon time”

They share a silent moment all to themselves, before Clarissa breaks them apart with an apology, there are matters from the senate that Magnus has to attend too.

“Do not cast me that look,” Alexander says, once he slips back on the ground. Caia is now fighting (and victoring) against Sextus and Symeon while Jonathan sits in a corner, wiping blood off the corner of his lips.

“I cast you no look,” Jonathan replies. “I but notice you leave without words. A new habit of yours, is it not?”

He laughs at the roll of eyes Alexander gives him. “Come, let us break meal. I expect to know all about Dominus’ _skills”_

“You will know shit” 

News comes to Alexander between kisses and caresses a few days later. He will have his test in _Aprilis._

_3 more longing weeks._

“You stand a vision,” Magnus calls, leaning against a pillar and watching Alexander fight against a wooden man. “As bright as the North Star.”

Alexander smiles quietly, letting his sword fall by his side. “The night is dark, you should be asleep, Magnus”

“How can I sleep in your wake?” Magnus replies, walking towards him.

Alexander himself should be the cellars. But the rise of the morning sun brings upon his fate - He has his test, in a few hours. And so, Doctore had granted him training under the watch of the guards. Though, Magnus must’ve sent them out for the moment.

“How long have you been watching me?”

Magnus lets Alexander pull him into his arms, he cherishes the touch, the warmth in the cool night. “Long enough to hear your thoughts.” Magnus replies, rubbing his nose against Alexander, making the man scrunch his face up.

“Magnus,” there is a hesitation in Alexander’s words, his face falls. “If I-- If I am unable to bear the mark--”

Magnus clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Place such thoughts from mind”

“It is yet a possibility,” Alexander says, staring into the eyes of the man in front of him, which twinkle like the stars in the night sky.

“You, Alexander,” Magnus takes Alexander’s face in his hands, “are a prize. You stand against Jonathan in fight of the title of champion. You--” he says, “will make the heavens hear the name of the House of Bane. I say this with no doubt” 

And then, Alexander is pulling him close and is kissing him. And Magnus feels their heart interwine in it. 

“You, Magnus,” Alexander breaths against Magnus’ lips, “are my love”

A confession new to the lips, but not to their souls.

“As you are mine.” Magnus closes his eyes, and feels the gods talking to him. 

_‘He. He is your one’_

A breath passes, as they stand under the moonlight, too taken to let each other go. Whatever happens in a few hours-- Magnus knows this one thing, _Alexander is his. And he is Alexander’s._

“Take pause.” Magnus says. “Come, refresh mind. Sit with me”

Now, Alexander is just a man, and like any mortal, he is unable to deny loving embrace when offered. He ends up falling asleep in Magnus’ arms till dawn comes upon-- bringing in a new day of hope, and fate. 

The ray of the morning sun hits Alexander’s sword, making it shine. All eyes are on him as he stands on the soils, ready to take his test, ready to win his fight and join the Brotherhood of the House of Bane. 

The slash of Doctore’s whip commands them to position. 

From the corner of his gaze, Alexander can see Jace grinning. Symeon tensed, yet assured beside him. The guards watch him, the slaves do so too. Clarissa even has her hands on his chest, as if she is muttering a silent prayer to the gods. And Magnus…

Alexander does not look at him, not right at this moment, he does not want a distraction.

“Begin.” Magnus’ honey-smooth voice commands.

Alexander does not expect Sextus to take ease. The gladiator is one of the best in the ludus and is a direct competitor of Alexander’s skills, Ragnar has chosen him to test Alexander for a reason. And Alexander’s expectations are not shattered by Sextus’ movements, which are ready to make Alexander of the afterlife. 

Sextus is hard and fast. He fights with aim, an aim to victor. 

“Grab his cock by your sword!” 

Jonathan’s cheers and Clarissa’s claps are the loudest whenever the iron in Alexander’s hand taints red. Sextus’ eyes glint with a challenge every time, one which Alexander returns.

“I hope that was meant for me, Jonathan,” Sextus says.

Alexander barks out a huff. “I do not believe it was”

The noises of swords clanking against each other are loud and shrill. Sextus’ laugh when he draws blood from Alexander’s leg is even shriller. But Alexander does not let that pause his path towards the mark of Bane.

Magnus is unable to take his eyes off them, off Alexander. He fights like a warrior, like a god in the arena. Magnus is mesmerized, he might also be a little taken by fear to see those gaping wounds on Alexander’s legs and stomachs but he reminds himself to _get used to it._

Though his heart yet aches when he sees Alexander kneeling on the soils, with Sextus pressing the tip of his wooden sword to the base of Alexander’s throat as if enacting an assasination. 

Sextus grins in victory.

Alexander, however, just smiles and shares a gaze with Magnus. A gaze of assurance. 

He smiles because training with Jonathan has led him to fall in all kinds of positions that could send him to the afterlife in the arena. 

He hits Sextus’ ribs with the back of his sword, making the gladiator fall back, sword knocked off hand, while Alexander swiftly rises back up on his feet.

_“You lower your guard after every attack”_

Seems like Alexander is not the only one who makes that mistake.

The hilt of Alexander’s sword hits Sextus’ throat, Alexander means not to spill his blood (He is not sure if he is allowed to do so) but that does make Sextus choke and fall to the ground, one hand clutched to the base of his neck.

And now, Alexander is the one who holds a life in his mercy. 

Jonathan roars a _‘This is what I taught him time upon time’_ while the other Gladiators laugh. Sextus tries to chuckle through his wheeze-for-air. 

And then, Alexander looks up, to find Magnus staring down at him with pride in his eyes, satisfaction and happiness flooding his face. 

“Diotmus, Atticus, take Sextus to the Medicus,” Doctore’s voice is determined, he looks bright. 

“And Alexander, _welcome to the brotherhood”_

Shivers travel down Alexander’s spine as he kneels in front of Ragnar, his forearm out and bare. He watches his Doctore places the rod of iron - the one which bears the mark - in fire until it burns red. Jonathan and Symeon have told him that it _“hurts like Jupiter crushing your skull with his balls”_

“Could I have the honor to lend a hand?”

Just as Ragnar comes forward to press the burning-red iron mark against Alexander’s skin, Magnus interrupts him, his eyes staring into Alexander’s. _Oh,_

_Magnus wants to be the one to give Alexander the mark._

With a bow, Ragnar hands the rod over to Magnus. And Magnus smiles as he looks down at Alexander, a smile of sympathy. 

“Apologies,” Magnus says, “This shall be excruciating” 

Alexander blinks at him, sees the worry in Magnus’ eyes. “Make it quick.”

The iron rod sizzles Alexander’s skin. It burns till Alexander’s bones feel the heat and Alexander can not help the small scream which is ripped out of his throat.

_It does hurt as if Jupiter crushing your skull with his balls._

“Gods, fuck,” Alexander groans, and Magnus is immediately throwing the rod on the soils beside them. 

“Heavens,” Magnus says yet again, taking Alexander’s face in his hands. “You did it”

Alexander takes a moment to collect himself, his arm _aches._ But then he looks down at it. It now bears an inflamed mark, a _B_ with flames around it, outlined with the shape of a rhombus. 

_He did it._

Magnus chuckles at the look Alexander gives him. He leans down, his lips brushing Alexander’s. “My beautiful boy,” he breaths. “My Gladiator”

_His Gladiator._


	2. Epilogue

“Time comes for me to serve you too,” Clarissa says, as she pours wine into Alexander’s cup, even though Alexander has denied it.

Alexander huffs, holding back a roll of the eyes. “I bear the mark myself, Thracian,” he says, “I stan as your equal now”

“The mark holds different meaning for all of us,” Clarissa replies. “And the gods tell me, it is not long before I call you my  _ Domina” _

“Fall from sight”

Clarissa laughs at Alexander’s taint cheeks. “It warms my heart to see you - you both - smiling, brother”

Magnus comes in a few minutes later, chuckles at Alexander’s broody mood. Alexander  _ has  _ been waiting for him since about two hours now, so his exasperation is justified.

“I was writing a letter to the Senate,” Magnus tells him. 

He takes off his tunic and lays upon the bed, right into Alexander’s warming embrace. “It was regarding tomorrow’s games”

Alexander frowns. “Everything well?”

“All good,” Magnus replies, kissing the tip of Alexander’s nose, nuzzling closer into his chest. His thumb grazes along the mark on Alexander’s forearm. It has been over a month.

Weird how time flies by. 

It is  _ Mauis _ already and the Capuan games are to be held tomorrow. Where Alexander will stand on the arena for the first time.

Anticipation is a small word for what they both feel. Though worry is something that resides in Magnus’ heart even more. Worry for Alexander’s opponent, of course.  _ May the gods save them from Alexander’s swords. _

“Tomorrow,” Magnus yet feels the need to say this, “you shed blood, but not your own. And then, come back to my embrace,” He sees a twinkle in Alexander’s eyes, and cups his cheek, needing to feel him close. “Alexander, if anything were to happen to you--” 

Alexander turns his face and presses his lips against Magnus’ palms, sending reassurance through it. 

“You will not so easily see me from your arms”

With a kiss, Magnus hopes that that is true.


End file.
